


Through A Glass Darkly

by Lily_Flowers



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Univese, Grey Wind Lives, M/M, Red Wedding, Robb Lives, Robb-centric, Robbwind, Robbwind + Theon, Theon-centric, throbb-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 15:29:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20473313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lily_Flowers/pseuds/Lily_Flowers
Summary: These would be my angstier throbb snippets, still not as angsty as canon.  I'll take the usual fix-it tropes like soul mates and have it still at best bittersweet.





	Through A Glass Darkly

** A Bit Of Skin **

For as long as Robb could remember, Theon had wore an armband over his wrist that had kept his soulmate mark covered — not that Theon would admit to having one, not even when Robb had shown Theon his own name, inked on Robb's wrist in dark red.

Now, after Robb had married a dark haired girl he had bedded in a haze of mad grief, he finally sees his own name on that long hidden stretch of skin, in a box Roose Bolton presented to his mother whilst smiling as mild as milk. _We should have been each others, we should have been each others but you've denied me and killed Bran and Rickon_

It was only when the screechy violins in the great halls of The Twins started playing The Rain of Cashamere, that Robb remembered that Roose Bolton was the one who said Theon had killed his brothers and burnt Winterfell.

** Surviving Winter (maybe a sequel to A Bit of Skin) **

There was a time when they were two instead of one that they had both loved a dark haired boy who would smile and laugh even when others did not. Now he would only smile with his mouth closed, his brittle hair the colour of dirty fishwires, and he was covered with scars and missing fingers and toes — but he was still with them again whenever they go like he used to, for as long as they could remember. They remembered a boy who would sit so close to them in a tall dining hall, arm against arm, and they remembered a boy who would bend to ruffle their hair and scratch behind their ears. Now they eat under an open sky, whatever the woods would give them, cooked over a fire when they camp or raw when they had to keep moving. The boy they still love would comb nettles and burrs out of their fur when they bed down for the night, and when he cries they would lick away his tears and curl around him tighter. They will never let him go again.


End file.
